I arrived in Miami last night, and this morning I began the arduous task of setting up a trade show exhibit without any help. I’m not sure which was worse; having to set up an entire exhibit by myself, or simply arriving in Miami. Actually, I do know. I’ll set up an exhibit without help any day, provided I can do it somewhere besides this God-forsaken town.
I hate to be so negative, but walking around in Miami and not getting negative is like going to math class and not getting bored. It’s possible, but it requires copious amounts of drugs that aren’t exactly legal. And since I don’t happen to partake in controlled substances, you can have Miami. Forever.
The one thing that makes this place somewhat bearable is the fact that Saturday I’ll place it squarely in my rear-view mirror – where it belongs.
At least the drive down here wasn’t too bad. I listened to The Second Horseman by Kyle Mills on CD during most of my drive, and I have to give Mills credit. He definitely knows how to mix the caper, government intrigue and suspense thriller genres like a pro.
I’m of course a sucker for a good caper story, and I greatly enjoy suspense thriller novels, so Mills probably should have just made the title A Book for Chris. I’ll overlook his failure to make everything about me, though. The story concerned a highly skilled thief who, oddly enough, had been framed for a crime he didn’t commit and sentenced to several years in prison. However, a few years into his sentence, he was allowed to escape from prison – against his will. I realize that doesn’t make sense.
Basically, a government contract agency arranged for him to be deposited on the wrong side of the prison fence and provided with two options: do a dirty little deed for the aforementioned agency and be compensated with freedom and large amounts of cash, or allow himself to be captured again. It would have looked as though he escaped on his own accord, however, and his sentence would have more than doubled. It’s a good thing he chose to work for the agency, or the story would have sucked a lot.
His role in the plot that ensued was to lead a team in relieving a Las Vegas security company of the 200 million dollars it was transporting from several Vegas casinos to the L.A. Federal Reserve. The money was then to be used in purchasing a dozen nuclear warheads from a Ukrainian splinter group who had made the warheads available to the highest bidder. The operation could not be conducted through official channels or with government funding for various (mostly nefarious) reasons, so the Vegas caper was necessary in order to bankroll the clandestine purchase.
Naturally, a lot of things went wrong and the world itself was in mortal danger at one point. But as easy as it would be to turn such a far-reaching plot into something cheesy, Mills managed to pull it off. The end result was an exciting, intelligent ride. If you find yourself with a little free time one evening, and think a combination of high-stakes thievery and nuclear threats are exactly what you need to read about, then give it a try. You won’t be disappointed.
I saw a blurb online today that stated Blender Magazine has named Sting the worst lyricist of all time. Yes, you heard me correctly. I admit that I’m a Sting fan, and may be a little biased, but giving him that title makes about as much sense as naming Rosanne Barr the sexiest woman alive or Stephen Hawking the dumbest guy on the planet.
“We’ns is done named Stephen Hawking the dumbest man alive ’cause he don’t talk good. Oh, and Rosanne is super duper hawt. Shoot.”
Their problem with Sting’s lyrics? He sometimes borrows from Chaucer, Shakespeare and St. Augustine for themes and quotes. So basically, they’ve given him this title because he’s over the heads of most of the people at Blender.
“We don’t really understand this, so he sucks. He should use the words ‘like’ and ‘dude’ more in his songs. And like, can’t he talk about bitches and hos? Dude, where’s my car?”
As my bud Carey put it, “I can’t even quantify this in my own head. My brain is stuck in an endless ‘does not compute’ loop.” I have to agree. It’s among the most asinine things I’ve heard in quite a while. I consider it undeniable proof that pop culture is the creation of mouth-breathing smacktards.
Over and out.
